“You should name him Bob Dylan.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay,” I replied to my friend’s request. Naming it Bob Dylan made as much sense as buying the fish in the first place.
It was my friend, Sean Twigg, who had put it in my head to buy a fish. We were bored and wandered into Petsmart. We admired the tanks and enjoyed the cool, breezy air conditioning. We went home and talked about what a great idea buying a fish was.
“Buying a fish is a great idea,” said Sean, “It’s perfect for a dorm room!”
Sean and I are both headed to college next year, and there is so much that is out of one’s control. But here was the chance to go off to college my way. With a fish.
I assembled a few friends and went to Petsmart the next day.
“What fish am I least likely to kill?” I asked an employee, whose name tag read Jessica.
“Probably the Beta fish,” she said with a laugh.
“Are those the ones that fight each other?” asked Erik Gupp, also college-bound.
“Oh man!” exclaimed his little brother, “We could buy a whole bunch of them and make them fight like UFC! Hey! How about Underwater Fish Combat!?”
“No way!” I said within earshot of Jessica, who was tending to other customers and trying not to laugh, “They’re like five dollars each!”
“Also, that would be morally wrong,” Jessica added.
“Yeah...that too,” I said. It was obvious that she thought we were all insane. I changed the subject.
“So can you help me get started?”
“Sure,” she said politely.
I bought food, a little plastic plant and left – holding a bright red, flowing creature now named Bob Dylan.
Bob Dylan swam, mostly, but came to the surface for food and sometimes breaths of air. “Wait, breaths of air?” I thought to myself at two o’clock in the morning, “Bob Dylan is a fish!”
Being as experienced as I am in these matters, I decided that Bob Dylan was not getting enough oxygen in his water. The water must be changed! But how?
As much as I loved Bob Dylan, I was not about to grab him with my hands. I took a small cup and scooped Bob Dylan out of his small, oval tank. The maneuver spilled water in little puddles on my dresser.
I took a large stein and filled it with distilled water. Then, I took Bob Dylan’s tank to bathroom and poured extremely hot water in it; burning my hands and spilling blue pebbles in my sink.
I dried off his tank with a sock and attempted to pour the new water. Surface tension caused the water to fall down the slanted edge of the pouring stein and splash on my floor.
Finally, I poured Bob Dylan back into his tank. It was 2:30 am. I dropped into my bed and slept.
The next day I decided to ask my favorite fishmonger Jessica about Bob Dylan’s curious behavior.
“Excuse me,” I said as she tended to Beta fish just like Bob Dylan, “I have a question.”
“Did you kill your fish yet?” she asked.
“No! Not yet,” I said. She remembered Erik and me. Uh oh. “Bob Dylan is hanging out near the top of his tank and is taking breaths of air.”
“Oh, that’s normal,” she said, “Betas have a ‘Labyrinth System’ in their head that can convert air into oxygen.”
“Wow,” I said, thinking back to the mess I had made because of this behavior. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Erik and I made small talk about college and eventually left Petsmart. Soon we would have to leave Leesburg. We would have to leave summer and the random decisions behind. We were going to have to become adults.
“We should get ice cream,” he said.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay,” I replied. Buying ice cream made as much sense as being at a pet store in the first place.